


A Last Change Into Forever

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-06
Updated: 2006-03-06
Packaged: 2018-08-16 01:04:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8080684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: T'Pol and Trip are always fighting, but this time the consequences are deadly. (09/13/2003)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

Trip never thought his life could become so complicated, all he wanted was to spend his days meeting aliens and building warp engines, and then she entered. Trip sighed, she or namely T'pol was the stigma to his problems, she fueled his anger every time she stepped over the line. Just this morning he was simply replacing a fused power cell, she told him he was doing it wrong, well you know the rest, a big fight unavoided once again. They always seemed to get worse every time they fought.

All he wanted was to just be friends, she seemed to want to be mortal foes. Every step he took was being critiqued by her very watchful seemingly unblinking eyes. Trip swung down from the catwalk, engineering was pretty desolate accept for the few ensigns running the graveyard shift. He just needed some sleep, coffee, and a pan of catfish. The doors swished open silently; the halls were bare since it was 2:00 in the morning. The mess hall door lay in front of him, as he opened it he realized that she might be there, but decided that catfish and coffee were to good to pass up.

She was there; keeping an emotionless look that was really annoying when you wanted to tell what someone was feeling. They were opposites like hot sauce, and ice cream, or cats and dogs. No wonder his relationships with girls never worked, grabbing his coffee and catfish, he sat down where maybe he should have avoided.

"Hi Sub Commander," he mumbled quietly, taking a sip of coffee and a bite of catfish. She acknowledged his presence but sealed her lips. "Ok, no talking's fine, but if ya want ta talk you just speak up." Not a word was uttered through her lips the entire time. Trip got up and walked away, whistling.

Now sleep was what he craved, simple and plain sleep, entering his quarters, Trip dropped onto his bed for a bit of shut eye. His sleep was restless and unnerving, it was about her and their fights, things to come like a death, grief, a rose, and a plaque with words he could not read, and an empty eternity. He wondered what it meant, a pounding came from his door, drowsy and sheepishly he opened the door. It was She who tormented him, her eyes remained fixed upon him, almost glaring but that of course was an emotion.

"I am sorry for not giving you the supply roster when you joined me, but unfortunately it was in my room." No emotion, just speech, quite typical by now.  
She handed him the metal pad and turned to leave. Gracefully she walked away, so quickly had his chance of talking slipped through his fingers, he sat on the chair, and laid his head on his hands. He glanced at the clock, " 0400," he muttered as he rubbed his temples to soothe them. His head throbbed, 'no!' His mind blared, I won't let her off so easily. He grabbed a shirt, and ran after her, his breath was growing heavy. His eyes searched ahead, as he headed for her quarters, the most logical place for her to be. He hit the buzzer on the wall, no response, he banged the door lightly. The doors swished, She stood there, her eyes looked at him reflectively.

"What do you require Commander?" She asked lightly, silence filled the already quiet ship. Trip's smile crept upon his face, no mater how serious he had wanted to come across, a boyish smile filled his face.

"We need to talk Sub Comman.. T'pol." Trip let his breath out,

"I concur." She replied. Trip relaxed, he stepped into her quarters, and sat on a very uncomfortable chair. "We have been having an illogically high number of fights." Trip smirked at this remark.

"I'd say very high." He leaned back smiling. "My dreams have been pretty unsettling," his smile faded as he spoke, "I think fightin is bad for the sub consciousness." He stopped and waited, silence emanated from the void of sound, she spoke

"You've been having them, the same thing has happened to me," her face showed a twinge of unpleasantness or was that just his imagination. Her face started to pale as he thought,

"T'pol!" He shouted as she crumpled to the ground in a pathetic heap, it must be the remnants of the telepathic disease, he hadn't a clue of why, and she had been treated. Without thinking he punched the com button. "Doc!" He almost screamed, but caught himself.

"What is the matter Commander?" Came the doctor's soothing voice.

"It's T'po...I mean the Sub Commander, she's fainted!" He was really worried now as he checked her pulse, her breathing was normal, but her pulse erratic.

"On my way Commander." The doc had sprung to action correctly; Trip hovered over her, his face filled with worry. What was the old saying, "Just when you think nothing bad could get worse it does." He muttered, well that was an understatement, now as her breathing stopped. He started CPR, thank goodness for first aid training, no breath came. The door buzzed, in one motion Trip leaped up and opened it, the doctor's face was somber as he rushed to T'pol's side. He checked her pulse and breathing, his face sobered even more. "I'm sorry Commander, she's dead." Trip's insides screamed, his face drooped, tears sprung from his eyes. 'She was dead,' his mind taunted him and made him want his ears pulled from his head. She was dead the words replayed back and forth in his head mocking him.

"How...?" he paused as her pale face was horrifyingly reminiscent.

"I believe her death was caused by stress." The doctor started confirming his worst fears never realized, he had killed her. The doctor continued, "To a human stress can cause heart attacks, but to a Vulcan any emotion that has the chance to grow without proper care and time will cause a total mental shutdown." She had tried to avoid him, but on a starship the possibilities of this happening were almost zero.

"Thanks doc," he muttered as he turned to leave, nothing could stave off his guilt. In the deep pit in his soul, he realized something, he cared for T'pol and before he knew it she was gone. He would never be the same...The captain held a memorial service, Trip held back the tears as his eyes watered, the captain had ordered a plaque to be placed in the mess hall. His dreams had now come alive with a deadly spirit, and a mean spirited vengeance. That night he walked toward his quarters, as he entered he sat on the chair, tears flowed from his grey eyes, he wanted to scream, WHY!!! But he knew and feared that no one would care or understand his pain.

Many years passed, his lament grew more reserved, but deep inside this shell grief still would run anew everyday of his life. The day before they returned to Jupiter station to be decommissioned, he looked out at the stars and remembered T'pol. A plaque had been put in the mess hall, he read the words aloud.

> The stars to grasp, for you to hold  
> The worlds revolve around  
> Today I hold them in my hand  
> For Tomorrow they will be gone.

Tears flowed down his cheeks as he placed a red rose on the plaque, she had been gone for two years now but the grief was still near. He still regret never telling her, or even knowing he cared about her until after she died. "A lost chance into forever," he mumbled softly, "for the rest of my life into eternity's end I will never forget you." 


End file.
